


Ficlets (Highlander)

by diamond9697



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Asphyxiation, Character Death, Decapitation, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Swords, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 14:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 9,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16642100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamond9697/pseuds/diamond9697
Summary: As I have spent many years in writing communities in various places, I have a lot of short one shot ficlets and drabbles from a variety of Highlander characters. I thought it would be easiest to have them all in one place, and given their shorter length, it seemed best to do it in a couple of collections.This collection focuses on characters other than the Horsemen, particularly Darius and Hugh Fitzcairn.





	1. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius prepares for his next battle, unknowing of what awaits him in Paris.

_Fall, 410 CE_

Darius sat in his tent, sharpening his sword and thinking about the battle to come. He knew that it wouldn’t be that difficult for his men, given the relative ease they had in sacking Rome that summer, and he was looking forward to the fight. It had been too quiet since Rome, and he felt the need to bloody his hands in more than just some drunken brawl among his men. He also knew that his men were restless for a real fight as well, and for the spoils of conquest, and he knew that Paris would provide enough to satisfy them all for a time.

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt the buzz of a nearby immortal long before he heard the voices outside his tent, but he still set his sword aside, knowing that it was just his commanders there to discuss the strategy for the coming battle. Of course the sword was still well within reach, for while there was a bond of trust between him and his men, he knew that complete trust in a world where only the strong survived could quite easily get him killed.

They discussed what they were going to do when morning came, and then went their separate ways to rest before the battle. They had no way of knowing then that the bond of trust that they did have with each other would be shattered before the battle ever took place.


	2. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shades of a man.

The man Darius knew as his father, showing him a blue sky stretching from horizon to horizon, and telling him that the possibilities of his life were as endless as that sky, if he would only reach out and take whatever it was that he wanted.

Lips and skin that were once full of red and golden tones, faded into the shadowy blues and purples of death, and marred only by the reddish brown stains of dried blood.

Blue eyes, glazed in death only a moment before, suddenly clearing as a harsh breath was drawn in and life once again took hold.

Pale blue eyes of a man who would soon to be a commander in Darius’ armies, weighing his every word and action.

Peaceful eyes of darkest blue, the color of the ocean Darius would never see, trying to turn him back from his goal.

Blue lightning, a quickening like none he had ever experienced, changing his life forever.

The pain of loss as he betrayed those who had trusted him, and the loneliness that on occasion haunted him still, as he made his home on holy ground.

A symbol in blue ink, etched on the wrist of the man who took his head.

A life history, told in shades of blue.


	3. Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when the hunter becomes the hunted?

_Winter, 61 CE_

The winter of Darius’ eleventh year had been a particularly harsh one, not only for the tribe, but also for all the creatures that lived in the foothills of the mountains. So much so in fact, that several of the tribes weak and sick, including a number of the children, had been lost to other predators. The warriors had gone out each morning, trying to kill or drive off the creatures, but something continued to stalk them.

One day, Darius snuck out of the camp, following the warriors in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the creature that the men told such fearsome stories about each night by the fire. They said it was truly a monster, with eyes that glowed in the night and a cry that would send shivers through the bravest of men. Darius however refused to be afraid. He was determined to face the demon, and to destroy it, proving himself to be a man in the eyes of the tribe.

Moving quietly through the trees, Darius stopped as he came upon a track in the snow. As he paused to study the track, he suddenly got the feeling that he wasn’t alone. He slowly lifted his head, and for the first time he caught a glimpse of the demon that hunted them. There was fierceness in the eyes that caught him in their gaze, and he felt a kind of kinship to the creature in that moment, and he became determined to become one with the animal. As it turned and loped into the trees, Darius got to his feet and chased after it, the hunted becoming the hunter.

That night, he entered the camp bloodied and torn, but with the skin of the gray wolf around his shoulders, and the heart consumed to give him it’s strength. He had left the tribe a boy, but had returned to it a man.


	4. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius enjoys the start of the day.

It was still dark outside when Darius poured himself his first cup of tea, picked up the small plate containing his breakfast of yogurt and fruit, and moved over to settle down in the window seat. He smiled to himself as he watched the horizon begin to brighten as the sun started to rise. He could not see the sun itself from where he sat, but he could see the far-reaching effects that it had on everything around it as the sky changed from shades of gray, to shades of pink and orange, and finally to the white and blue that signaled the beginning of a new day. 

Darius sat quietly watching all of this and eating his breakfast as he marveled yet again at all the beauty there was in the world, and at all the possibilities that lay before him. Morning was his time to quietly reflect and find that inner peace that had served him so well over the years. It was when he could look around and see how everything and everyone in the world had the chance to start over and to better themselves.

Mostly though, it was when he could look out at the city as it started to wake, when everything was still quiet, and for a moment truly see the peace that he had spent so long working to achieve.


	5. Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius finds something precious.

_924 CE_

She was streaked with caked on dirt, the kind that made her dark skin seem several shades lighter than it was in reality. Her feet were covered in numerous scratches and cuts, where they weren’t covered in dirty rags that were only slightly more threadbare than the ones that she wore on her emaciated body. Dark brown eyes looked up at him, filled with the kind of weary suffering that no child should ever have. 

The girl was one of hundreds of children just like her that Darius had seen since coming to India. Another child who was left alone, with no one to call family and nothing to her name but the rags that she wore. He slowly bent down so that he was more to her eye level, and smiled gently, speaking softly in her native tongue. "What is your name, little one?" 

"Chhaya"

He smiled sadly to himself, and though how very appropriate the name was, as the child truly seemed nothing more than a shadow, as small and thin as she was at the moment. However he didn’t let the sadness show as he reached out a hand for one of hers. "Well, Chhaya, why don’t you come with me and we will see if we can’t get you cleaned up and fed. Then, after you’ve had a good night’s sleep, we’ll see what we can do about finding you a family."

The little girl looked at his hand for a long moment, then her eyes moved up to look into his, and slowly she reached out her hand and slipped it inside of Darius‘. As she did so, a soft tentative smile slowly brightened her tired face, and Darius felt his heart lighten just a bit as well, because for the first time he had seen something in her eyes that was truly precious. 

Hope.


	6. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrys is dead, and Darius must try to figure out his new life.

_Fall, 410 CE_

He stood watching the holy man’s funeral pyre burn, his eyes never leaving the figure being consumed by the fire. It wasn’t until there was nothing left but the faint glow of embers that Darius managed to tear himself away, but even then he hadn’t really wanted to go. There were so many questions in his mind that remained unanswered, and the one person who might have been able to help him was now nothing but ash and a strange feeling that seemed to have taken over his very existence. 

Still heavy with the burden of his thoughts, Darius made his way to the river, removing his shirt and tossing it aside as he knelt down beside the water. As he bent over to wash away the soot and dried blood that covered his hands and arms, he noticed his image in the water, and he paused for a moment. 

There had been a few times in the past when Darius had seen his image reflected in water or in the shiny metal surface of a Roman shield. There had been fierceness about his eyes then, and a determined set to his mouth. A sense of violence and of power had seemed to simply show in his face and in the way that he had carried himself.

Now though, that man was not the person that he saw in the reflection. Now there was the slight furrowing of his brow that came with confusion and a yielding around the lines of his mouth. Perhaps the biggest change however, was the softening of his eyes, and a look that was much warmer than the coldness that had once resided there.

Darius could now see that he was not the man he once was, but he hoped that in that man’s place, there might now be one that was worth knowing.


	7. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Sometimes when Darius looked into the mirror, he could see the men that he used to be looking back at him. Not just the Catholic priest, or the monk, or the Hindu, or the Buddhist, or the warlord, or the Goth, but all of those people that he had been throughout the ages. Each of them was unique in their own way, and yet each of them was ultimately the same person. 

And sometimes, when he is feeling especially introspective about his life, he would think about how each of those men that he had once been, came together to make up the man that he was now. Some might scoff at the idea of course, unable to believe that the General who had destroyed the lives of thousands of people could possibly have anything to do with the priest who wanted nothing more than peace. They didn’t understand that the determination to reach his goals, even if those goals were not the same as they had once been, still came from that time and that man. 

If he had never been the Warlord, who had so passionately believed in his cause, then he would never have had the strength to be the priest, who had the same passionate belief, even though the cause was no longer the same.


	8. Losing Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callestina makes a mistake, and pays the price.

_Summer 410 CE_

"I am coming with you."

Darius looked at the woman that was standing before him for a long moment, and then he started to laugh. 

Callestina flinched at the harsh sound, but still held her ground, determined to make him see that she could be an asset to him. "What is it exactly that you find so humorous?"

The laughter stopped just as suddenly as it had started, and a hard dangerous look came into the General’s eyes. It was a look that the soldiers in his army had long ago learned to respect, and even to fear. "The fact that you seem to think that you actually mean enough to me that I would take you to Paris."

Her eyes narrowed, and she got a rather imperious look about her. "You _will_ take me to Paris, Darius, or I will inform my brother of how you seduced me into your bed. Then we will see just how far you get on your little campaign."

Darius was out of his chair and had his hands around her throat before she even realized that he had been intending to move. He dug his thumbs into her windpipe and squeezed, his voice a low growl that barely even hinted at the true rage that was showing in his eyes. "You were a diversion and a means to an end, Callestina, nothing more. You mean less to me than my horse, and chances are you mean about the same to Alaric."

She grabbed at his hands, trying to pull them away from her neck, but he was too strong for her. Soon, the world seemed to shrink around her until all she could see was his eyes, and even those were starting to fade. She was dying, and there was nothing that she could do to stop it.

Darius leaned in, making sure that she would hear him even as her body started to go limp. "Remember this when you draw your next breath. If you so much as hint to your brother about what happened here, then I will come back and I will make sure that the next time I am finished with you, that you won’t be waking up again."

And then everything went black.


	9. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Darius gets restless.

There were some mornings, when the city of Paris was still mostly sleeping, that Darius would leave his sanctuary and take a walk along the quiet city streets. He always started before the sun had risen, when fog still curled through the streets near St. Julien’s, and the stars were slowly disappearing from the sky. The path he took would differ each time he took one of these walks, mostly because he didn’t want them to get routine to the point that someone could easily find him if that was their intent, but no matter which way he went, he always ended up on the banks of the Seine just as the sun was rising into the sky.

He would stop for a moment as he came close to the river, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the banks, and watching as the sky slowly lightened. Then when the sun rose, nothing more than a pale white disk through the fog that still swirled over the water, he would look out across the river and see the towers of Notre Dame rising through the mist. The sight was always beautiful, no matter how many times he saw it, and yet that wasn’t why he came down to the water’s edge.

There was a man, who still lived within the priest, that on occasion still longed to see the sea. And when that longing came upon him, he would slowly walk along the banks of the Seine and he would remember a distant promise he had once made to himself, and to the men who had followed him. It was a memory that Darius had often tried to push away over the years, but he had never really been able to manage to refuse the call that the ocean seemed to have upon him. An ocean that he had never even seen.

So instead he had started to walk the banks of the river, and in so doing, sooth the sometimes restless spirit within himself.


	10. Peace On Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius wakes up to a new world.

After Darius woke up and prepared himself for the day to come, he made a pot of tea and took a cup to the window just behind his desk in order to get his first look at the new day. What he saw there caused him to smile, and it was only a moment before he moved away from the window, and towards the entrance to the church.

The courtyard was covered in a soft layer of white, and large flakes of snow continued to fall slowly from the sky as he took a sip of his tea and watched the new world that had appeared while he slept. Not a track marred the surface of the new fallen snow in the square, and the sounds of the city seemed muffled to him in the entrance to the church. 

Across the street however, he could see people walking slowly along, nodding and perhaps smiling to each other in greeting as they moved about their business. Each of them sharing a single moment with another in a world that seemed to have somehow softened overnight. 

However each of those single moments added up together into a feeling of peace and goodwill between all people, on a day that was made beautiful by just one of the many wonders of nature. It was moment’s like this that made Darius the happiest, moments when all the world appeared at peace.


	11. Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has an interesting conversation with a friend.

_Fall, 1862_

“A rabbit you say?”

“Yes, with a p-pocket watch and a waistcoat. She follows the rabbit down its rabbit hole because she is a very c-c-curious girl, as all little girls are, and finds herself in a veritable w-wonderland of strange and unusual things.”

Fitz laughed, listening with delight as his friend’s stammer all but disappeared as he spoke of this world he had created for his young friend. “Well I would think that if it started with a late rabbit it would have to be quite an unusual place, this Wonderland of yours. Tell me Charles, what befalls this young lady of yours in her dream world.”

“A g-g-great many things really. She runs into the wh-white rabbit again and changes sizes q-quite a number of times, gets advice in a manner from a hookah smoking c-caterpillar, has a tea party with a mad hatter and his friends, and is put on t-trial by the Queen of Hearts.”

“It sounds quite fascinating, these tales that you tell to entertain this young girl, you really should publish them you know.”

“I could n-n-n-never do something l-like that.”

“Nonsense, of course you could. You always publish under that Lewis Carroll pseudonym anyway, this would be no different.”

Charles Dodgson is quiet for a moment as he considers this idea, then he looks at Fitz curiously. “W-w-would you read something l-like that?”

“Of course I would, everyone likes to lose themselves in tales of wonder and fantasy.”

“Oh? And w-w-what would you d-do if you found yourself there, in Alice’s W-w-wonderland?”

Fitz grinned, “why I’d likely as not spend all day having tea with this hatter of yours and then head to the palace to sweep the Queen of Hearts right off her feet. She sounds like she could use a proper wooing.”


	12. Resolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of a new year, and Fitz finds himself in a rather precarious position.

Fitz groaned softly as he slowly started to drag himself through the many layers of sleep to some semblance of waking. He didn’t exactly have a hang over, but there was still that foggy muddled sense to his head that told him he had partaken of far too much wine and mead the night before. The fact that it had been the eve of a new year had of course contributed to the amount that he had to drink, and he hoped that he had not done something he would regret later, as he sometimes had in years past.

Leaving his eyes closed he started to stretch, and in doing so felt his arm brush against the soft warm skin of another body in bed with him. He stifled another groan as it would seem that he had indeed, hoped for far too much once again. Slowly, he opened his eyes, praying to any god that would listen that it was a comely serving girl that he had bedded the night before. The gods however had apparently deserted him as instead he found himself beside the eldest daughter of the Duke, with whom he had recently become good friends. 

Fitz closed his eyes once again and sighed softly. He had never been one to make resolutions at the beginning of a new year, but thought perhaps this year he would make an exception and resolve to pay more attention to how much he imbibed when in the company of nobility.


	13. Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius has the same dream every night.

The dream had come again. A dark dream that did not happen in any linear form, but that seemed to be nothing but a series of violent images that flashed through Darius’ head and left him covered in sweat and unable to return to the realms of sleep once he had been torn from their depths. A flash of light along the edge of a sword, chairs scattered through the church as though a storm had blown the main doors open, and a spray of blood across one of the stone columns along each side of the chapel.

There had been other dreams in the past that had repeated night after night as this one did, and Darius had long ago come to realize that the only dreams that did that were the ones that had told him of the future. However, there had never been one that left him with this kind of strange sense of finality, and it told him that soon his time in this world would come to an end.

So this night, after sleep became impossible once again, Darius went to his desk and started to write.

_To the person or persons responsible for my death,_

_I forgive you._

_Darius._

He then made a cup of tea and spent the early morning sitting at his window, watching the stars slowly dim in the night sky.


	14. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius feels there's something wrong in camp, and decides to do something about it.

_Summer 410 CE_

It had been far to quiet in the camp, as though everyone was waiting for something with baited breath, and Darius was not someone to simply overlook such a change. 

Normally, his men would be laughing and telling stories of their past conquests around the fires as they cleaned and sharpened their weapons. There would be fighting among them as they let off some of the nervous energy that was always just below the surface on the long treks that would often come before a battle. There would be much blustering and talk of how many men they would kill and what riches they would amass for themselves, and for their General.

However, it seemed that whenever he walked among them now, all he heard was faint whispering that would stop as soon as he came close. The only things he saw were the guarded looks of his men as he walked past the fires, most of them not even bothering to acknowledge him as they once did. It was time, Darius thought, to see what exactly was going on.

So he dressed in some of the cast off rags of some of the slaves his men had taken in a previous raid, dirtied up his face with mud and filth, and walked among the men. He slowly moved through the camp, doing a slaves work, and quietly listening. They didn’t look twice at him, and barely even noted his existence other than a few cuffs here and there that Darius made note of in order to deal out the proper punishment later. 

And they talked, whispering among themselves about how Darius was a fool for allowing himself to be taken with Alaric’s sister. How he was setting himself and them up for failure and worse if Alaric should find out what was going on. There was even some talk about outright betrayal, where they would help one of his second’s take command of the army. 

Darius had heard more than enough, and he made his way back to his tent in order to make plans. The next day, he personally killed a dozen of the most outspoken of his men.

There were no more whispers in the camp.


	15. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was much more than simply a church.

It had changed so many times over the years, that it no longer resembled the original building that had once stood in it’s place. And indeed, it was not the original building at all, as that had been destroyed by the Normans sometime late in the 9th century. The current incarnation had not been built until towards the end of the 12th century, but it too had seen a great many changes as time had passed.

Originally, the new incarnation had been done in the Gothic style that was prevalent during that period in history, and eventually it had the good fortune to be a central part of the University of Paris. It had enjoyed many years as a place were classes and assemblies had been held within it’s walls, as well as being the parish church for many of the masters and students. Eventually though, the university had moved away from the area and left the small church to it’s own devices once again, and neglect as well as damage by riots took it’s toll.

In the mid 17th century, several portions of the church had to be torn down, and a neoclassical facade was put up in their place. During the French Revolution, the church was seized by the state, and turned into a salt warehouse. Later on, it was used for a time by the Hôtel Dieu as a mortuary chapel and place for infant baptisms, and the Augustinian Sisters took their vows before its high alters. 

During its many years of service it had been deconsecrated several times, and had almost been torn down to make way for urban renewal before it was declared a historic monument. For a time, the city even considered turning the old building into some sort of museum. However, in the late 19th century it was reconsecrated and assigned to the Melkites, in whose possession it still remains.

None of this however was the reason that St. Julien’s was the place that Darius had always felt the most comfortable, and why he considered it to be the place he would stay until his time on this earth ended. The changing face of the church meant little to him, as it was sense of peace and well being that it had always given to him that made it a home.

A home that one-day would no longer contain his person, but that would contain his soul for all eternity.


	16. Seize the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend broods, and Fitz is having none of it.

_Spring, 1753_

Thackery sat down at the table with Fitz, pint in hand, and shook his head slightly before taking a long drink. "Sometimes I wonder if there’s anything at all in this life that we can truly call our own."

Fitz lifted an eyebrow at his friend, "What on earth are you going on about?"

"I lost a student last week. He was good, but he ran across someone better and it was over as quickly as that. It made me stop and think about how nothing I have is really mine, because I could lose any of it, at any time. A student, my life to a sword, my heart to a woman, maybe even my very soul to whomever takes my head. None of it is really mine Fitz, so what’s the point in anything?"

"The point is that now, at this very moment, they are yours. Your life is your own, and it belongs to no one but you, as does your heart and your soul. You might give your heart to a woman, but it was still your choice to give it. You might lose your life and your soul to an enemy, but you will have had the ability to make the most of it in the time that it was yours."

"But…" 

"There are no buts, Thackery. You can choose to live life to the fullest in every way, or you can choose to pretend your life is not truly your own and mope around until someone takes your head. However in the end what are truly yours are the choices that you make, because no one else can make them for you, or take them from you, except for you."

Thackery slowly nods and takes another drink from his mug. "I suppose that is true enough."

"Of course it is! Now then, lets see about getting another pint and catching up on the last few years. I have a few new stories I think you might enjoy..."


	17. Melancholy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz reflects on Immortality.

Fitz sat at a table in the back of the bar, staring into his pint and not really paying attention to the people around him. The barmaids were worried, as he was usually such a happy fellow, but they didn’t feel it was their place to intrude on his apparent grief and so they left him mostly alone. Occasionally he would take a sip from the mug, but mostly he simply looked into its depths with a faraway look in his eyes, as he remembered another friend whom he had lost.

There were few things in his life that truly bothered him, and none of those so much as the loss of someone that had been dear to him, which seemed to be happening more and more often these days. There was talk that the time of The Gathering was approaching, and if that were the case then he knew that it would only get worse, and the thought made him unusually melancholy. 

Fitz enjoyed his life; both the good and the bad, and very little left him with any profound feelings of dissatisfaction. However there was one thing that had always bothered him, and that he knew always would. He could easily sum up this one thing with a simple phrase, one he had known for almost as long as he had been alive, and one that he now whispered softly into his mug as he took another sip.

"There can be only one."


	18. Occupation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius helps where he can, though it is never enough.

_Paris, 1942_

Darius moved the stone from the floor only in the dead of night, when the city was for the most part still, and the patrols made by the German soldiers were far less frequent. He would pass down what food and supplies he had managed to gather for those who had come to him for help, and he told them any news of their families that he had managed to uncover. There was never enough of either the supplies or the information, but they took what he had gratefully, and waited as patiently as they could for a way out of the occupied city.

Every once in a while, instead of the meager supplies being passed down into the hole, he would instead bring them out of the small cell that served as their temporary home. He would lead them to the courtyard where someone else would be waiting to lead them outside the city, and then on to someplace else where they would hide once again until the chance came for them to continue on their journey away from the Nazi’s, and the almost certainty of the concentration camps. He would then pray for their safety and watch as they moved away from St, Julien’s and into the surrounding darkness.

And as he watched them walk away, he was reminded of another time when he had helped those being persecuted in much the same way. Only then it had not been another country that had caused the kind of panic that made good people afraid for their families and their lives. It had not been another country that had made those same good people willing to incriminate and turn over their friends and neighbors, rather than risking almost certain torture and death themselves.

It had been the church itself, in the time of the witch trials.


	19. Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius does not much care for the gods, some more so than others.

_Spring 410 CE_

Darius growled, throwing his sword across the tent and practically skewering one of the unfortunate slaves who happened to be standing in its path. “I just overheard one of the men praying to Fortuna for luck. Like that Roman whore would somehow grant him a better fate than he could get praying to one of our own Gods.”

Grayson barely batted an eyelash, being used to the occasional bursts of rage from his General. “I wasn’t aware that you favored any of the Gods, Darius, so why does the fact that a man chooses one group over another bother you so badly?”

“The man chooses to pray to a Goddess who is as fickle in her choice of champions as any mortal woman. One moment her grace may shine upon you, but the next she has forsaken you for whoever happens to catch her fancy at that particular moment. Better even to pray to Loki than to deal with attentions like hers.”

“Perhaps, but there are many who would argue that the attentions of the Trickster as just as fickle as that of any woman.”

Darius thought on that for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I suppose you have a point. However, I still want that man flogged for his choice. There will be no worshiping of Roman Gods in this camp. And let it be known as well that the next time I find it happening, heads will roll.”


	20. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius makes a cup of tea.

The afternoon had finally drawn to a close, and those who had come in to St. Julien’s for assistance or a listening ear had long since departed to go back to their homes and their lives. Darius finished up the last of the notes was working on, then slowly got to his feet and stretched a bit to work out a small kink in his back. Then he smiled to himself as he went about the rectory, going through the practically ritualistic motions of making his afternoon cup of tea.

Dumping out the remaining water from his morning cup, Darius rinsed the pot and then added fresh water before setting it on to boil. While he waited, he went to get his teapot, strainer, teaspoon, and his favorite tea leaves for this particular time of day, and set them on the table away from the water waiting to boil. He then measured out a heaping teaspoon of leaves for every cup of tea he planned to drink, and put it in the strainer holder. 

Once the water had started boiling, Darius added some to his teapot, swirling it around a bit until the pot felt warm under his fingertips and then dumping it out. Once that was accomplished, he set the pot down on the table and then added the leaves from the strainer holder. Then he poured the remaining hot water into the pot and let it set for a minute or two while he put the strainer over his cup and cleaned up what he no longer needed.

When he was satisfied that the tea was ready, he poured it from the pot into the cup, letting the strainer catch the leaves. He then took a moment to take in the aroma of the tea before picking up the cup and letting it warm his fingers. Walking over to the window, he looked out over the courtyard at the people taking advantage of the grounds, and smiled as he took his first sip.


	21. Ripples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violane has questions for Darius.

_Winter, 1815 CE_

“If all that we are is wrapped up in our quickening, then what happens if there are none to receive that essence if our head is detached from our bodies? Is everything then lost? ”

“Nothing is ever truly lost, Violane.”

“Yet you have said that our memories, our thoughts, even the very soul of our being is a part of our quickening, and that all of that then transfers to our destroyer. However, if we were to die in some accident where no other immortal was nearby, then all of that would just disappear, would it not? All of our thoughts and feelings would simply cease to be, almost as though we had never even existed at all.”

“There are other ways to exist beyond the realms of death. The essence of who we are is not just in the quickening that resides in our bodies, but it is in the way that we chose to live our lives, and in the people that we choose to share that life with over the years.”

“But the people that we know in our lives will one day die as well, and then we will truly be forgotten.”

“Yes, but each life that we touch will touch another, and then that life will touch still another. It is like when the rain falls upon the river, and each drop creates it’s own set of ripples in the water. The ripples spread out, each touching another, until the entire surface of the water is interconnected. Even after the initial ripple has long since faded.”

“So, it is not what we are that matters, it is what we do that is important?”

“Exactly. What we pass on is not only in our quickening, but it is in the way that we choose to touch the world and the people around us. And it is in that way that all of us, mortal and immortal alike, are exactly the same.”


	22. Drunken Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz is not a fan of the most recent King.

_London, England, 1720_

Fitz was drunk, having spent all day sitting in his favorite tavern, complaining about the state of affairs in England with a pretty serving girl. "If I had my way, I’d challenge him right here and now and be done with the whole thing."

She looked at him skeptically. "Oh, and you think you could march right into the Abbey and slap him with a glove that easily do you?"

Fitz snorted and gestured rather wildly with his cup, sloshing ale over the sides and onto his hands, although he didn’t appear to notice. "A glove is to good for the likes of that pompous ass. A fish! Now that would be the thing to use."

The girl stifled a giggle at the image, even as she tried to quiet him. "Shhh, do you want someone to hear you going on like that? They’ll arrest you and execute you for treason against the Crown for talking that way about King George."

Fitz goes quiet for a moment, and then nods. "I suppose that’s true, lass. And then who would there be to rid our glorious country of the fool." He takes another drink from his cup, and then suddenly brightens as he turns back to the girl with a new glint in his eyes. "I don’t suppose you are acquainted with someone who might know where I could get my hands on a fair bit of gunpowder, do you?"


	23. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius life inspired by a sequence in Disney's 'Fantasia'. The songs were 'A Night On Bald Mountain' by Modest Mussorgsky, and Ellens Gesang III "Ave Maria" by Franz Schubert.

It began with darkness. 

There was a foundling who was raised in a time of war, and was baptized in the blood of the enemy. Eventually the child grew to a man, and became a great General of his people, skilled in the art of battle. Then some say the man became a demon, or perhaps a dark god, dying and returning to life in order to continue to lead his people to victory. 

He drew great warriors to him, men who thirsted for power and the spoils of victory. With these men, the man built a mighty army, which was later instrumental in the taking of a mighty city. It was later whispered among the vanquished people that the demon General was unbeatable, and that he stole the souls of their dead warriors in order to keep his own unnatural life.

Then came the light.

It took the dark man by surprise, felling him in one stroke, and curling through his very soul. It settled into every part of him, shining with such power that it vanquished the darkness. It brought with it a peace, and a need to bring the light to others. 

So the man traveled the known world for a time, searching for the best way to bring others the message that he had been blessed with by the light. He tried many different things, learning much in the process, before finally discovering the way that he felt would benefit the most people. And so he settled down in the place where he had first experienced the light, and taught everyone who was willing to listen the message of peace and love that it had brought to him.


	24. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Names are important to Fitz.

Fitz frowned up at the night sky, then turned to look at the man standing beside him. "But it’s not blue."

Darius nodded slightly. "I am aware."

"Well if they are going to name something after a color, then it stands to reason that the bloody color should be associated with the object in question."

The priest chuckled softly. “Perhaps, but there is an explanation for the reasoning behind the name.”

"And of course you know what that is, right?"

"Yes."

"Well then, would you care to tell this poor uneducated gentleman what that might be?"

"Of course. You see, traditionally speaking, a blue moon would be the third full moon in a season that has four full moons. Compilers of almanacs would often use a blue symbol to denote this third full moon, hence the name. These days however, it is more common to call the second full moon in a single month a blue moon."

Fitz looked at his friend for a long moment, silently smoking his pipe, and then he looked back up at the brightly lit moon and shook his head. "Well, be that as it may, the bloody thing should still be blue if you ask me."

Darius just laughed.


	25. Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair words for a fair lady.

Thackery lifted an eyebrow at Fitz as he sat down across from him at the table. There was a look in the man’s eyes that Thackery had come to know all too well, and he sighed softly. "Who is it this time?"

"Ah Thackery, you should have been there to see her for yourself, for I’m afraid that my simple words will not do that lovely lady justice. Her sweet red mouth the shape of a perfect cupid’s bow. Her eyes the blue of the sky on a perfect summer evening, the perfect ripeness of her breasts, the…"

"You know, for not having the right words, you certainly are painting me quite the portrait."

"And they are trivial compared to the true beauty of my fair lady, as you would have surely seen if you had only come with me when I asked."

"I am sure that I would have." Thackery paused for a moment as he took another drink from his mug, then asked Fitz the all-important question. "So, what was the lady’s name?"

Fitz blinked "Her name? Why I don’t rightly know, as I have yet to actually meet the lady in person. I only caught my first glimpse of her from across the courtyard you see, but I will discover her name if it takes me all week!"

Thackery just shook his head. Some things simply never changed.


	26. Guardian Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius tries to help a little one deal with loss.

“I want my mommy!”

Darius knelt down before the young child, sighing softly as he tried to explain that her mother would not be returning to her. It was something that the father had been unable to do while trying to deal with his grief over the tragic death of his wife, and it could not be put off any longer. The priest reached out and gently wiped away the little girl’s tears, and smiled softly. “Do you remember the stories that I told you about the angels?”

The little girl, no more than five years old, nodded slowly.

“Sometimes when they need help watching over all the people, they call upon the most beautiful souls they can find on earth, and ask them to be guardian angels. It means that they must go away from their families, but in return they will be helping to keep many other little boys and girls who have no one watching over them, safe from harm.”

She sniffled, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Is that what happened to my mommy?”

Darius nodded. “She was such a good mommy, that God felt she was needed in heaven to help others as well.”

“I need her though! I need my mommy!”

He nodded and then reached out and pointed to the child’s heart. “She is always with you, watching over you now just as she watched over you before. She has never truly left you, and she never will.”

The little girl’s eyes widened a bit. “Mommy’s my angel?”

Darius smiled softly. “She always has been, my child. She always has been.”


	27. Vanished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing lasts forever.

The chapel lay in shambles, with chairs broken and overturned throughout the room. Some of the larger windows had shattered as well, leaving colored shards of glass scattered about the stone floor, their edges catching the occasional beam of sunlight that found its way into the darker recesses of the church. A splash of red ran slowly down a stone column, pointing the way to where Darius had fallen.

Losing the priest was hard enough on those who had known him, but the real loss was far greater than just the demise of the man. Darius had fallen to mortals, hunters who had seen him as an abomination, and who had killed him without the presence of another Immortal to catch his quickening. Everything that he had ever experienced, his memories, his life, the very essence of the man himself, had vanished forever in that moment. 

The light that Darius had held within his soul was snuffed out, as though it had never even existed. Now, the fragile memories stored in the hearts and minds of those who knew him were all that was left of a man who had tried to change the world one soul at a time. Until eventually, time erased even those memories, leaving nothing behind at all.


	28. Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are best left to the past.

There is still something to be said for reading old books by the flickering light of a candle, Darius thought, as he pulled one of his favorites down and sat down to open it’s pages. It allowed the words to almost take on a life of their own, adding to the illusion that the writer must have hoped to create of worlds never seen, and times that had come and gone. The golden warmth spilled across the page, and made it seem almost like a visit with an old friend.

He had tried reading by electric lamp on a few occasions, but it seemed to make the pages and the words that were written on them harsher in some way. It was true, he mused, that the words were much easier to read in the glaring light. However it had always seemed to detract from the story itself, and he had never been able to really immerse himself the way he had been able to previously. Eventually, he had given up on the idea and simply gone back to what had always worked so well for him before.

Darius smiled softly to himself as he turned to the page he had left on the night before, his fingers almost lovingly caressing the leather bound book in his hands. Perhaps it was simply that he was trapped in the past, but it still seemed to him that sometimes the old ways were still the best ones.


	29. All Things Must Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm moves over the church.

The sky darkened quickly as the late summer storm moved overhead. The sound of birds which had been prevalent only moments before suddenly quieted, as though a single message had passed through their ranks in an instant. The air had a feeling to it, as though it has somehow gotten heavier in those same moments, and there was this sense that something was about to happen.

A moment later there was a blinding flash from above, followed a minute later by the crash of thunder. Rain suddenly started to fall in sheets, leaving anyone left outside soaked through in just seconds. The water hit the pavement so hard in fact, that it bounded upwards and made it seem as though it was raining up as well as down. The darkness seemed to deepen, as though night had come in the middle of day, brightened only for a moment by the occasional flashes from above. The world, for a time, was in chaos.

Then just as suddenly as it had started, the downpour stopped. The flash of lightning and the accompanying roll of thunder died away, leaving behind a silence that was almost deafening. Rays of sunlight started to cut through the clouds, bringing color back into a world that had gone dark and gray. For a moment, the world seemed to simply stand still as the city was washed clean in the rain. There was no sound except for the occasional drip of water falling from the leaves or from the statues. There was nothing to disturb the newly reemerged brilliance of the world after its sudden bath. 

Then the birds slowly started to chirp again, and the people stepped out from under the awnings and doorways where they had taken refuge and went on about their day as things returned to normal and the magic of the moment had passed. Darius watched them as he opened the doors to the church once more; letting in the fresh scent that always came after the rain. Then he smiled to himself, his eyes moving to the sky as the sun once again claimed its rightful place in the world.

It was going to be a good day.


	30. Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All too often, the facts are the least important thing in the news.

Avoiding the news, in all its varied forms outside of one person speaking to another, was something that Darius had done for centuries. Person to person had always seemed to him to be the best way for people to share information, and to learn about new goings on in the community and in the world. It allowed for a more personal element, and for shared comfort as well as joy. People came together when there was news that needed to be imparted, and it then became something that was more than just the sharing of information. 

However, it was only in the more recent years that he had come to be really bothered by how much things had changed in regards to news. Events had always had a fair share of sensationalism that surrounded them, as it was simple human nature to embellish something to make it more dramatic. These days though it had gone far beyond simple embellishment into a kind of hurtful speculation. Oftentimes a story seemed to also include a twisting of words, acts, and ideas that would then change it into something else completely. Yet people still seemed to accept such things as the truth, oftentimes before the truth had even been discovered.

It saddened Darius far more than he often let on to those that knew him. The world seemed to be slowly sinking deeper into a place where the only thing that mattered was how much entertainment could be squeezed out of other peoples suffering, rather than the suffering itself. So often now, people seemed to want to believe the worst about someone rather than the best, and it had made the world a far sadder and more cynical place.

Darius could only hope that one day humanity would start to see what they had allowed themselves to become. Perhaps then they would start to realize that there was far more to life than simply watching and speculating about it from a distance.


	31. Small Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius gives a young couple some advice.

Darius sat at his desk, looking across at the young couple sitting nervously before him. It was obvious to him from their answers to his questions that they had deep feelings for each other. They believed with all their hearts that they were ready for the next step in their relationship. Perhaps they even were ready, despite all that life would throw into their paths.

Life, Darius knew, had a way of changing relationships. He had seen so many young couples just like this one that had let life get in the way of love and respect. He had watched as relationships had fallen to pieces, claiming lives in a way that was just as destructive as any war in it’s own way. People all too often had a way of forgetting how things had started,and the little things that had meant so much. It was this forgetful nature that so often led to the death of such beautiful beginnings.

“If you remember just one thing from our talk this afternoon, then I hope that it will be these words. There is no such thing as a small moment. Every moment of our lives is one that could change everything. The little things that don’t seem that important can mean the difference between a marriage that lasts, and one that crumbles. Right now you are at the beginning of a journey that should span the rest of your lives. You do things for each other to show how you feel, and while they may not seem like much, they mean everything. Don’t stop doing the little things, and cherish every single moment that you have together. When the hard times come, as they do in everyone’s life, then it will be those things and those moments that help you to weather the storm.”

They smiled, nodding and giving each other those looks that spoke more deeply than any words of how committed they were to each other. Darius smiled as he gave them his blessing, shaking the young man’s hand as they left the room. He watched them walk down the hall towards the chapel and he felt the sense of hope that he always did on these occasions.

Just a small moment that meant the world.


	32. It's a Kind of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic comes in many forms.

The heat seemed to slowly drain out of the air as the sun sank beyond the horizon. As twilight descended it gave even the most ordinary objects a sense of mystery that could only be found in this shadowy time between day and night. It was a time when the world seemed full of wonders that could be found at no other moment. For Darius, it was a time to remember what it was like to be young and still amazed at the world around him. 

Time tended to cause so many of his fellow Immortals to become jaded about the world they inhabited, and to overlook the magic that still lingered. They forgot about the simple joys of a child as the years passed, letting the harshness of their lives overshadow such things. Wonder and that certain sense of awe seemed to simply disappear in the light of day, leaving them missing something that they didn’t even know that they had lost. It was a fate that Darius did not wish to share.

So as day faded into dusk and the magic that was still left in the world made its nightly appearance, Darius went outside next to his gardens and lay down in the grass with his hands behind his head. He looked up as the stars started to awaken in the night sky and watched as soft green lights flickered in and out of existence around him. The peace of the night, when everything was soft and quiet, washed over him. Then he smiled to himself and wondered who else might be out there, watching and wondering the exact same things.


	33. Sanctity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes being a priest is harder than other times.

Darius smiled gently at the other man as he allowed him into the room. “Good evening, Inspector LeBrun. I was just preparing a pot of tea when you knocked. Can I offer you a cup?”

Shaking his head, LeBrun took a moment to survey his surroundings. He had been in Darius’ office before and little had changed, but old habits were hard to break. “I am here on business, and have no time for such things.” There was a pause as he considered the priest. “You have heard about the rash of burglaries in the area?”

His expression sobering a bit, Darius nodded his head. “I have.”

LeBrun nodded a bit, hardly surprised. The man seemed to know almost everything that happened in the area, despite the fact that he never seemed to leave the old church. “Then you know that the last occurrence also included an assault on a young woman.

“I had heard as much.” Darius left the pot of tea on the small table near the fire, and instead walked over to sit behind his desk.

“Someone has claimed that they saw a young man who fits the description of our suspect come into this very church. I need you to confirm this claim and if it’s true, tell me all that you can about this young man.”

Darius just looked at him and then shook his head slightly. “Inspector, we have been through this before and my answer has not changed between then and now. I can't give you that information.”

LeBrun’s hand curled into a loose fist, the only expression of the frustration he was feeling at the moment. They had indeed been through this before, and he had known before he came in that the priest would not relent. After all, the last time had been a man who had murdered countless people, and the priest had still given him nothing. However despite knowing, LeBrun still had to try. “He almost killed that girl, and yet you won’t even confirm or deny if he was here.”

“I cannot betray the confidence of the people that I serve, and if I were to betray just one person, then and I might as well have betrayed everyone. No one would ever trust me again, and I would no longer be able to help the people that need me.”

Shaking his head, LeBrun regarded the other man for a long moment. He had already tried arguing with the priest and even using the guilt of the knowledge he was withholding against him, so he knew that doing such things now would get him nowhere. However, it was still a hard thing to swallow. “I don’t know how it is that you can sleep at night.” Then he turned and left the office, knowing there was nothing else that he could do.

Darius watched him leave, and then sighed softly. “You assume, dear Inspector, that I do.”


End file.
